Erasing the Evidence

   I was there to fix the holes in the walls. The fist sized hole in the door, and the large ones above the bed. It was an all too familiar scene. It could’ve been my room growing up. The room of an angry teenage boy in the suburbs. I couldn’t tell exactly how old he was just by looking at his stuff, but it seemed like he was a late teen. The room didn’t feel lived in though and I speculated about where the boy was. There were no sheets on the bed, no random scraps of living dropped from pockets and scattered about the floor. The tv was unplugged, the closet full of yearbooks and boardgames and clothes. He must be off at one of those psychiatric hospitals or institutional learning facilities like I got shipped off to as a teen. Or maybe he was off at college and the parents wanted to fix things up while he was gone.

I was to change the color from a dark, dark blue to a lighter, soothing color, Azure Snow. Perhaps it will help him when he gets home. Maybe one day he and his parents will share a laugh about how silly he was to think that his high school world was so huge and such a big deal. He’ll feel silly that he acted out, just like I do.

   I remember bursts of rage. I remember being mad at god and my parents and the system. I just wanted to be left alone. I wanted to create things and enjoy my friends, but I felt stifled. I felt like they wanted to wrench every bit of creativity out of me and mold me into nothing more than a wage earner. I felt like they were disappointed that I wasn’t on the fast track to doctor/lawyer/businessman. I felt like they didn’t believe me that I could be musician/actor/filmmaker. I knew what I wanted and it had nothing to do with shut up and obey. So I lashed, and I punched holes in the walls and I did drugs and I was reckless. And luckily, I made it through, but a lot of my friends didn’t. And now I laugh about it with my mom, and while I’m not setting the world on fire, I used their lack of faith in me as a fire to achieve, to some degree everything that I wanted to do. I showed them they were wrong, and it feels good. Real fucking good.

   The man of the house came upstairs to tell me how happy he was with my work. He showed me work that he had done around the house and he was proud of. And then he told me how his son had shot himself. He told me that he’d do anything to let his son know that he loved him. And the man broke down in front of me. He burst at the seams with his grief. A grown man. A complete stranger.

   I wanted to tell him that although, I could never understand what it was like to lose a child, that I had lost many friends like that. I wanted to tell him about my own struggles with depression. I wanted to tell him that I understood what it’s like to have a hole in the middle of your chest that you can’t think your way out of. I wanted to tell him that I know what it’s like to make a list of all the things that you love and look at it and understand in your mind, but to still have that feeling of emptiness on a soul level. Instead I just quietly said I was sorry and went back to my job, which was erasing the evidence of his child’s rage. They didn’t want to remember this angry, misunderstood boy. They wanted to remember the sweet child they had before the darkness sunk in. I was just there to erase some of the evidence.

   

    I thought about all the people I knew that checked out early. Mike Murphree, Alec Horgan, Grant Fey, Justin Hill, Jason Barganier, Shane and Shawn, Emily from high school, Big E.  I thought about all the people that killed themselves with drugs: Bob and Marshall, Tony, Kai, Dario, Matt Brown. I know there’s no point in thinking that you could do more for those people. Everyone has their own path, and you can only meet someone halfway.

   I guess I’m lucky and the depression I deal with is pretty mild. As a kid, I denied its existence. As an adult, I just quietly plow through the worst parts. Sometimes it gets really bad, almost crippling. Two years ago I just laid on my couch, chain smoking with a full ashtray on my chest, not wanting to go to work. But I went to some therapy and I plunged myself in to some creative projects and I came out the other end better than before. But I’m always aware that the pendulum will swing back one day. I’m always bracing myself for the creature to rear it’s ugly head, and I grasp and I strive to shore myself up and hope that I’m growing and that I’ll be better prepared. I’m lucky that my desire to prove everyone who didn’t believe in me with my success is stronger than my depression. Most people aren’t so lucky.

   The father’s words have been ringing in my head since I heard them. That he just wished he could let his son know how much he loved him. I guess we’re all guilty of not saying it enough. Fuck what I said earlier. Tell everyone you give a shit about as often as you can. 

RIP John Still

   I’ve read some really sweet things written in remembrance of John Still, and I wanted to share my favorite things about him and what he gave to me. I worked with John on several projects, but most extensively on Live Animals. I was always blown away by his performances, but when he impressed me the most was when we did a scene where I had to spit in his face. We were sitting there discussing how to go about it. “Well, maybe I can just pretend to spit”---“Fuck that”, says John. “you need to really spit in my face like you mean it”. I don’t know how many takes I really spit in his face, but everyone knows how gross that shit it. Spit smells all germy. And he took it like the goddamn champ that he was because he was in it. He was committed. He loved what he did and I admired him for that.

  

  I had him come out and shoot a scene for “The Dead Shall Walk”, the ill fated feature my friends and I tried to make, and in the scene John had to get tackled by two zombies. He showed up in his convertible, looking cool as shit smoking a joint and proceeded to let some dumb ass kids who had no idea what they were doing film him getting tackled to the ground.

When we wrapped on Live Animals, John gave me the best compliment I’ve gotten as an actor to date. He told me “You gave me exactly what I needed for me to do my job”.

The last time I spoke to John on the phone, I could hear how bad he was. I tried to be optimistic. “Hey John, maybe we can get together soon”. “I don’t leave the house anymore”, he said. I told him that I’d see him soon, but the elephant in the room was there. We both knew it was the last time we’d ever speak. I just told him “I wanted you to know that I appreciate you and you’ve made a huge difference in my life”. That’s all you can say. He always made me feel appreciated. I hope that I make him proud.

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Being bullied was the best thing that ever happened to me

   In the wake of the incident at Ole Miss, where some football players in the audience shouted out homophobic slurs during a production of The Laramie Project, the talk of bullying comes up again. Now, of course I think those guys are dicks, but when it comes to looking for a solution I think a lot of it needs to be in the victims growing a tougher skin. I mean, when that incident happened there should have been an usher to throw the jocks out, but a lot of people are calling for the guys to be punished, and I’m not sure that’s a good solution.

   

   Getting bullied as a kid probably formed me more than most things. I was a spazz in grade school, and in 6^th and 7^th grade, boys from the class above me would single me out after school. Sometimes, one kid would push me from the front while another kid would unzip my backpack and throw all my books and papers on the ground. They threw my bike in the ditch and several times they beat me up. I went to this bullshit private school with a bunch of entitled, white kids. The jock mentality reigned. I was no good at sports and that increased their ridicule and made them call me “fag”. My parents didn’t buy me the latest designer clothes and I was just weird. Being treated like that at such a young age made me really see them for who they were, and I wanted nothing to do with what they liked, wore or listened to. Hell, that’s why I can’t even watch football to this day, because all I can think of is that “These are the kind of guys that used to fuck with me”.

   

   But I didn’t tell on them,  that would have just made their retribution greater. No, I got pissed and I held it all inside for a while, letting it cook. And then I found some music that was as pissed off as I felt, and in that I found a subculture where it didn’t matter if you “fit in”. None of us fit in, that was the point. We were all the losers and the dweebs and the outcasts. I found theater which was where all the other weird kids were and punk rock and I became proud not to fit in.

And when I walked in to high school, the hierarchy meant nothing to me and I looked at all the kids who were supposed to be “cool” and thought “Fuck you. Why the fuck are you cool?”

And I took that anger and alienation and I relished in it and used it to create pissed off music and eventually I got to see things that most people never get to see, traveling around the U.S. and Canada and Europe in a van and by the skin of our teeth. Me, the spazz who used to shit his pants in the 2^nd grade, Me, the loser who barely graduated high school, I had a voice now, an outlet and a family.

 I took what I learned from punk rock bands, the DIY way of doing things where we weren’t going to sit around and wait for someone to deem us cool, we were going to be real and make our own cool. I took that attitude and put it in to the avenues of acting and film, and I still get to do really cool shit to this day, things that most people aren’t doing, and it’s fulfilling and I feel free.

  

   And the fire that keeps me going is the bullies and the haters. All the people who told me I wasn’t good enough, or didn’t fit in or that I was going to be a loser. All the people that spit on me and called me names.

And maybe I am a loser. I don’t have a pot to piss in, but I’m alive and I’m chasing what I want. I see pictures of the people I grew up with and their beautiful families and their nice jobs and part of me wants that. But for the most part I’m proud of my life and what I’ve done and if I died tonight, I’ll have very little regrets.

   Are those football players that made fun of those performers at Ole Miss total dicks? Yes. Do I wish violent prison rape upon them with red hot pokers and fire ants? Yes. Do I think they should be punished? Not necessarily. You can promote tolerance, but you can’t enforce it. That will always backfire. There will always be assholes. We need more pissed off young people and then we need to teach them to channel that anger and hate-fuck society with their art. Tell me, what makes a more lasting contribution to the world, art or football? 

If I had grown up where everybody told me how rad and special I was every day, I would have turned out just like them. 

And besides, the only reason a football player would be making homophobic slurs is that they're in total denial of their sexuality. All guys who play or watch football are in the closet. I mean, you're checking out dudes. There's no way around it. You're in to watching dudes slam in to each other, and it's ok brother. It's 2013 and you can be whatever you want to be.

God is my co-pilot

Recently, I drove to Alabama to work on a film. God rode shotgun.

Me: You know god, I really appreciate you letting me get this film role.

God: Ah, you know. You bust your ass all the time, and usually I throw obstacles in your path. I figured I could throw you a bone every once in a while. I really just want to see how much I can put you through before you give up. I’m like a slot machine at the casino.

Me: Well, I’ve felt like giving up a few times, but really I press on sometimes to spite you. Also, thanks for not making the truck break down. I know you like to pull that one on me a lot.

God: Yeah, well you’re an asshole. What can you do?

Me: You know what I was thinking?

God: Of course I do. I’m god.

Me: I was thinking that since I’m not too far from the beach, I’d like to swing down and see the ocean on the way home. I brought my camping gear. I’d be really nice to fall asleep to the sound of the waves, to smell that clean salty air and to take a swim in the morning.

God: That sounds like a plan (snicker)

Me: What? What was that?

God: Oh nothing. Let’s go to the beach.

Me: No really. Why’d you laugh?

God: No reason, dude. You’re being paranoid.

Me: Hmmm. Ok…

An hour and a half later, we make it to the ocean. We end up driving along the coast for a long time.

Me: What the fuck? There are high rise condos as far as the eye can see! I just want a little, dark, quiet piece of beach that I can set up a tent on.

God: Fat chance, you fucking hippy. If you want to stay at a beach around here, you need a reservation and $250 bucks for one of these fancy hotels.

Me: But I don’t want that! I prefer the world closer to how it was when you created it.

God: Yeah, brah. Why don’t we kick the hacky sack and get our chakras aligned.

Me: Why did you let these people build all this shit here?

God: Because fucking condos are fucking sweet! If you wanted to enjoy the ocean you should have thought about that when you were in high school and applied yourself more. You could have been a doctor or a lawyer, then you could afford to stay in one of these sweet condos and go parasailing. But no-oo-oo!

Me: But what about all that shit about “consider the lilies” and “camel through the eye of a needle”and all that? I thought I was doing the right thing by following my passion and not being so concerned with making money. I thought I was doing what you put in to my heart.

God: Yeah well, maybe I did put that in to your heart. And you know what I put in to the hearts of those rich people? Tha motherfuckin ocean, bitch.

Me: I’ve been driving for hours. I’m getting tired. All I want is 3 feet by 6 feet of earth to rest on.

God: Ooh look there! Fudpuckers! Isn’t that funny? I put that there, you know.

Me: I know. I wish you’d put a campground.

God: Pfft. Could I get delicious waffle fries and a hilarious t shirt at a campground? No.

Me: I am getting hungry.

God: Well look at all this good shit I made! Mcdonalds, Applebees, Waffle House…

Me: Ugh. I’ll pass, thanks.

God: Dude, let’s go in that store. The entrance is through a shark’s mouth and there’s like 9000 kinds of beach towels---

Me: I don’t want fucking beach towels! You know what I want? The sounds of the waves crashing on the shore, crickets in the grass, the stars in the sky---

God: (singing) This is the dawning of the age of Aquarius, The age of Aquarioooooooous---

Me: Stop singing!

God: I’m sorry. I’ll stop.

Me: Thanks.

God: AQUARIOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUSSSSS!!!!

Me:  I hate you.

God: Don’t take my name in vain, brah.

Me: My eye is hurting. I can barely see out of it. Can you please make it stop?

God: You’re doing it again.

Me: What?

God: Asking me for shit.

Me: Well, it was drilled into my head since I was a kid that if I asked you for something and I had enough faith then you’d help me.

God: Maybe you don’t believe enough.

Me: I’m talking to you aren’t I?!?

God: Motherfucker have you ever heard of the holocaust?

Me: *sigh* of course I’ve heard of the holocaust.

God: Don’t you think all those people were praying to me for help?

Me: Yeah, why didn’t you help them?

God: I work in mysterious ways, motherfucker!

Me: Well, if you don’t help the people that ask you, what’s the point in believing in you?

God: You have to tell me how rad I am or I’ll make you suffer.

Me: People suffer anyways! What are you going to do? Let the earth be destroyed by greedy motherfuckers, make us all die of cancer? Eventually take everything that we care about away from us? All that is going to happen anyways! Plus, if you are all encompassing then you created all the terrible shit too. So if you don’t help us when asked, created everything good and terrible and are going to do whatever you want anyways, why should we praise you?

God: I just want to be loved.

Me: You sound like a needy girlfriend. If you are omniscient and omnipresent, then how is it that you have needs and wants? You should be complete. You shouldn’t need or want to be loved by lesser creatures---

God: Look, there’s a TGI Fridays! Let’s pull in there and get some Shrimp Fajita Won Ton Cheddar Poppers.

Me: That’s it! I’m pulling in to this Wal Mart parking lot! My eye is swollen shut and hurts like a motherfucker, I’m tired, I’m afraid I’m going to get in a wreck, there’s no hotel vacancies and if there were, I couldn’t afford one anyways! I’m going to sleep in the truck unless you want to help me!

God: nope.

Me: Ugh! Thanks for everything!

God: You should be thankful you even have an eye. Some people are blind.

Me: Really? Really ,God? Yes, I’m thankful I have my eyes. It doesn’t mean that one of them doesn’t hurt like a motherfucker right now and isn’t working properly. Do you tell blind people that they should be thankful because some people don’t have heads?

God: Some people don’t.

Me: Good night, god.

Some time passes….

God: You asleep?

Me: I’m trying.

God: Ok sorry. I’ll be quiet.

God: How about now? You asleep now?

Me: Yes.

God: Good, because I have a surprise for you.

Me: Is it a campsite?

God: Nooooo.

Me: Is it a hotel room?

God: Nooooo.

Me: Then what is it, God?

God: It’s this cop about to fuck with you!

Me: Oh Jesus!

Cop taps on the window and shines a light in my face

Cop: What are you doing ,son?

Me: I’m sorry, officer. I just needed to shut my eyes for a second.

Cop: You been drinkin?

Me: No sir, not a drop.

Cop: Well, this aint no rest stop! This is Wal Mart! Now you either need to go buy something or get out of here before I take your ass to jail!

Me: Yes sir.

I drive off.

Me: Thanks a lot, God.

God. You’re welcome. You know what? I’m sick of you. I’m gonna go hang out with Ben Affleck. Call me if you need me….Ha! yeah right. You’re an asshole.

Friend reviews for 2012

Everyone reviews their favorite movies and albums from the past year. I decided I was going to review a lot of my friends. this is in no particular order. I just scrolled through facebook. If you didn't make the list, you need to try harder.

Craig Morris- Nice dude. Needs to write more songs about farts.
Ben Abney- Totally solid. Has a sweet beard now.
Raney Azada- So fun to offend with my potty mouth.
Ryan Parker- One of my favorite people to work with. Can go from nicest guy to raging asshole in the blink of an eye. His farts smell like whatever he ate mixed with some shit.
Melanie Addington- I have nothing bad to say about this person.
Jessica Morgan- One of my favorite people to make fun of. I live for it. Not batshit crazy, just stupid sometimes.
Parker Hays- I have your strobe light, brah.
Woodsy- "I swear I'm never drinking ever again".
Ryan Azada- a positive influence on a totally jaded old fuck like myself. Will turn in to a raging asshole in 15 years just like me.
Kari Fleskes- Her creativity and drive are inspiring, but she's probably crazy. Dont tell her I said that.
Mark Allen- Man, one of my favorite people. Always makes me happy to be around.
Luke Hall- In a tie with Shawn Apple for King of all Dicks. Doesn't want to do our totally funny Love Translators blog that he doesn't even have to get off his fat ass for. His brutality is awe inspiring.
Leanna Morris- We've been the butt of each other's running fat jokes for over 20 years. The person I love to hate. We secretly have feelings for each other.
Matt Martin- makes me rent crusty old movies. Doesn't have Good Burger in his store. Besides that fact, super smart and awesome to talk to. One of my favorite new friends.
Bill Walker- Shares my love of smooth hits from the 70's and 80's and living the life of a rover. Some girl told me he has the biggest dick she's ever seen. I believe it because we're brothers.
Heather Potter- I miss these assholes
Camille Means- Totally inspired me by getting the fuck out of Memphis. Probably hates me because I didn't see her when she was in town. That's ok. I love her and she'll get over it.
Ceylon Mooney- taught me discipline. Has beefy tittyballs.
Danielle Costello- My favorite poopy pants. wish we could go to perkins.
Victoria Skye Cleveland- Only likes sandwiches, Harry Potter and Cats.
Erica Edwards- loser
Megan Wingo- Made me a sweet mix cd of smooth music. thinks I'm not working hard enough to get out of memphis. is wrong.
Cheri Carr- Calls me "papi"
Jeremy Benson- awkward phone conversations
Anthony Siracusa- Another dichotomy of positive influence/ total dick
Marvin Stockwell- Public relations. Nicest dude ever.
Shawn Apple- Tied with Luke Hall for King of all Dicks. Doesn't like anything. First man in existence to be pregnant. I'm so happy for him.
Jennifer Petro- One of my favorite people ever. Totally solid. I can't even make fun of her. so sad.
Mark Jones- Must be delusional for putting me in his movies. He's so nice that I think he's just being charitable. I think he thought i was a "special" kid who's dying wish was to be in a movie.
Chris Hooper- Doesn't know shit about work.
Chris Gray- one of the most positive people I know. Has orange hands.
Diana Ramirez- My favorite Mexican person.

Lead by example

So many people are shady. So many people are delusional. And me, why I'm a fucking loud mouth and I just want to call them all out on their bullshit. If we don't, doesn't that make us all accomplices? It's not like they're murderers. It's just exploitative. Someone may come along and not know any better. My mouth has gotten me in trouble lots of times. I'm in an ass kissing business. You just have to smile and pretend that everyone is your friend. That shit is hard for me. I'm in this business because I'm passionate and I've never been any good at kissing ass. I'll give you my unfiltered opinion whether you want it or not, but so much shady shit goes on that I'd use up all my energy and still end up with a bunch of enemies in the end. So, I'll just keep my head down and try to work and try to get the fuck out of this town. 

   I've heard people sometimes get the impression of me that I'm full of myself. Bullshit. I think I suck, but I absolutely love what I do. I will always be working on myself. I will always be improving my craft and I would never presume to tell you how to improve yours. 

   Just lead by example. Just put your fucking head down and work and if you're so badass then it'll be obvious to us and we'll follow you.

Armageddon, Satan and the Cringe

We should be so lucky. To have it all end at once. To have some ancient prophecy come true and blink us out of existence  No, it will be a slow motion apocalypse. The world itself will not cease to be, but everything that healthy, sane people love will be choked out, divided up, pre-packaged and bastardized. We've been handed a system that, the only way it can continue is to keep growing, the only way for it to keep growing is for us to consume. We're living longer, but less healthy. We're all going insane. No, the world will continue, but we'll go the way of the Mayans. We'd get off lucky if we blew up in a nuclear war or solar flares cooked us like Kenny Roger's rotisserie chickens. Then, we could blame someone or something else. The way it'll go down, we can only blame ourselves.

   We've been through this before. Remember Y2K? We all thought it was going to go down then. My friends and I sure did. I mean, we had all the Neurosis albums. Our acid riddled minds thought we could tell the future, thought we had uncovered some long hidden secrets of the universe. Man, the acid flowed in those days. I'd argue with any old hippy that the real LSD boom was in the mid 90's. It was all innocent fun at first. If you could scrape together $5 for one hit in the 8th grade then your night was figured out for you. At first we'd laugh, and look at the colors and the sounds. Then we started to discuss, to break it down. It was like walls were being leveled and there was a whole part of the world that we had never noticed before. Some people never got past the "look at the pretty colors" stage. Me, my mind went deep into it. Some people could put on a movie and just chill. Me, I'd come up with a theory that Starship Troopers was some weird white power propaganda and it freaked me out.

   We started freaking out when "the Cringe" happened. That's what we called it, "the Cringe". In hindsight, I think it came in to our group with certain people, or maybe it was inevitable, but the Cringe was the darkness that found it's way in to our little group. What was once fun and laughy and positive became dark and evil. It was around that time that we started joking about Satan a lot. I mean, we didn't even believe in Satan  but you should have seen the looks on people's faces when you were trying to walk down the hall in school and you can't get through all the bobble-heads so you'd just flash them the devil horns and say "Satan is your lord" or some shit like that. People were terrified. We just thought it was hilarious, how superstitious they all were. To me, it was the same as telling someone "Santa Claus is your master". Stupid shit, right? But we all wore black shit and drew pentagrams on stuff and it was all a big joke. I remember when one of us said "what if just by joking about it, we really are worshiping Satan? I mean, what if this is how you do it"? I remember when my friend, who would later become a Christian, first mentioned Jesus. He flipped out on some acid and was wigging out because we were making devil signs. We just laughed at him. It was all a joke, right?

   But things became dark, and we became angry. I became filled with anxiety all the time and when we tripped we started freaking out. I remember having the fear that I would never come back to normal. I remember feeling like I could fall off the earth, just go flipping off into madness with nothing to hold me down. We stopped learning things. It became destructive.

New Years eve, Y2K was the second to last time I ever took a hallucinogen. We had all camped out at the property, because that would be the perfect place to ride out Armageddon  The Property was my friend's family's land and it is my favorite spot on the earth. Of all the natural wonders I've seen in my life: Yellowstone, the Grand Tetons, Yosemite, Glacier National Park, Zion, The Badlands, etc....and this little 160 acre plot of land in northeast Arkansas is the most beautiful place on earth to me. In the foothills of the Ozarks, full of rocky red clay dirt....there's a creek and a pond and a cliff. My friends and I would ride dirt bikes and shoot guns, wade in the creek, catching crawdads and baiting our hooks with them to catch the little red eyed rock bass out of there. We'd drink all day long there. We shot our first movie there, Many Evil with a VHS camcorder and a handful of rubber masks and old man hats. We'd drive my Toyota station wagon through the trails with people hanging on to the bike rack. I wrecked the 3 wheeler there and tore my nut sack open and cracked my pelvis. Yeah, if when I died, i could go to my favorite time and place for all eternity, it would be those times at the property  It was wild, there were no other people there and we could do whatever we wanted.

We sat around the fire in the woods to wait out the end of the world. At about 11 pm, someone offered me some mushrooms. Now, I know there's some hippies that are all :"Mushrooms won't make you freak out, brah". Shut up, hippy. Even the Native American Shamans that would use hallucinogens as a spiritual guide would eventually lose their minds if they used it too much. And we were full in to the Cringe at that point. Things were dark. In the last few years we had lost Jason B, who snorted up a bunch of blow and ate a ten strip of acid and did a head dive out of a 3rd floor window, and Mike, who rumor has it had eaten some mushrooms the day he hung himself. We, as a group were freaking the fuck out. And boy did I freak the fuck out. The world did end in my mind. I had to go inside and lie on the bed and I spent the whole night twisting and roiling and sweating out madness. I saw the Apocalypse play out on the ceiling. I saw Jack booted storm troopers marching. "If you want a vision of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face forever" kind of shit. I saw fire and chaos, and I thought it would never end. And sometime in the blue light of dawn I fell asleep.

Needless to say, the world didn't end. Like I said, we'll never get off that easy. We're going to be around for awhile. We might as well start figuring out how to right this sinking ship.

I only took a hallucinogen one more time, but that's another story. Sometimes i feel remnants of the Cringe. Sometimes I get chemical shiver reminders. Sometimes I get stuck in the patterns in walls. Sometimes I see red lightning pulsing through everything. but i did learn a lot from it. Once in a blue moon I'll hear some young kid talk about LSD and my spit gets all thick and I can instantly recall that taste, like a metallic slug. I wouldn't eat that shit now if you paid me, but if someone were to ask me if THEY should eat it or not, I couldn't tell them yes or no. While i did retain some sort of knowledge (it's nature I'll have to get in to another time) I've also seen people run out into traffic naked, people smush bananas all over themselves,  people eat cigarette butts out of ashtrays and people with no shred of humanity in their eyes...just reduced to beasts.

I think that it took all that exploring for me to realize how powerful the mind is. The mind can create a reality that is so insulated from the truth. We used to talk about how heaven and hell are states of mind. Once Jason B. told me that he thought that hell was when you were broken off from the source and just spinning around in your own mind. But what is the source? The source is the thing that will not allow the world to end. The source is the thing that binds us all together. The source is what separates us from the animals. When they say that we were "made in the image of our creator" they mean that we are creators ourselves, and that means we have the possibility to create ourselves out of the mess we've made. The possibilities are endless  It's great to be alive.